Broken
by NotMyselfYouSee
Summary: Blaine Anderson's father places him in McKinley Teen Rehabilitation Clinic, along with many other patients. But Blaine doesn't need  or want to be here, until he's intrigued by a certain boy who never speaks.


**Hi everyone, this appeared in my head a few days ago. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Pretty much everything belongs to FOX/RIB.**

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><p>Blaine didn't want to be here. His father was being unfair; he didn't do anything wrong, did he?<p>

With his father's powerful hand clamped down on his shoulder, Blaine marched into the small waiting room, where he sat down on one of the seats, his shoulder's hunched and playing with his fingers. His father dropped a bag at his feet, where it made a large smack as it hit the ground. The lady behind the counter looked up from her typing and smiled as she met Blaine's father's gaze.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked politely, her tone casual as she glanced at Blaine.

"Yes," he said in a commanding voice, "my son, Blaine Anderson, was recommended to come in here for a while."

The woman turned to her computer and began typing at the keyboard, her eyes narrowed in concentration. After a few moments she sat back in her chair, her eyes blinking, before looking back up at the man standing before her.

"It says – from his doctor – that there's really no need for-"

"No, I insist. This is the best place for Blaine at this moment in time."

The woman moved her head so she could take a glance at the boy sitting down. He was quite a good-looking sixteen year old, with dark hair smoothed down with gel, a strong jaw that was just like his father's and a deep hazel eyes that were currently downcast, staring at the palms of his hands.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her tone hesitant, "The doctors know what they're talking about…"

"Yes, I'm very sure, Miss…" he checked her name tag quickly, "Slater. I do know what's best for my own son,"

She quailed under his imposing glare.

"Ah – yes, okay. Well, I'll give you ten minutes or so – to say goodbye?"

The man nodded.

"You'll keep me updated on his progress?"

"Of course. We have your details; we'll keep in contact,"

Mr. Anderson nodded once again, short and sharp before turning back to his son.

"Blaine, I want you to get better. I want you over this stupid phase you're going through. Then we can get you doing fun stuff again. We never did finish that car, did we?"

Blaine looked up, his eyes blank and his face devoid of any emotion. He shook his head slowly.

"Well, we'll get right on that once you get better, okay?"

Blaine dropped his head and nodded mutely, hoping that his father wouldn't see the tears pooling his eyes.

Mr. Anderson hesitated, wondering if his son would say goodbye. He leant in for a hug, placing his arms around Blaine's body. The only response Mr. Anderson received was Blaine's body stiffening slightly, as if he was scared of his father.

The older man pulled back and stood up.

"Get well, Blaine. Get over this stupid stuff," he said, almost disapprovingly, before turning around and nodding to the receptionist.

She gave him a small smile, and he walked out, the door slamming behind him.

"Blaine?" Miss Slater called quietly.

She smiled when the boy looked up, trying to hide her shock when she saw tear tracks coating the boy's face.

"If you could wait a few minutes, someone will be here soon to show you around and get you settled in."

Blaine nodded, before looking down at his fingers, picking at the nails.

Miss Slater wondered what was wrong with him. He looked like a normal boy – maybe not too happy, but functioning.

Of course, many people who walked through these doors looked somewhat normal. It was only until you started talking to them, seeing through their eyes how the world worked, that you realised they were different. Not bad, just different.

He looked like a nice boy. Too nice for some of the kids that rested between these walls.

And his doctor hadn't recommended he be in here. That was one thing Miss Slater had never heard of. Most parents would want to keep their children at home, under their watchful eye. It was only the persuasion of medical professionals that swayed them.

Blaine was an entirely different case.

Miss Slater shook her head and returned to the files she was working on before the Andersons marched in, telling herself to stop judging people before she knew them properly.

Five minutes later, not a sound from the boy on the seats, and to Miss Slater's left swung open, revealing an average sized man. He stepped inside the waiting room and seemed to fill up the small space with the large smile that was covering his face. There were small lines that were etched into his face around his eyes and the corners of his smile that betrayed his real age. His black hair flopped into his face, which he swept out of the way with a flick of the hand. His dark eyes almost seemed to sparkle in the light, and his smile was infectious. Holding a large hand out to Blaine, he said in his normal voice – which always sounded like he was excited about something, "Hi there, I'm Alex Moore! Welcome to McKinley!"

Blaine's eyes widened a touch at his enthusiastic entrance, and tentatively took Alex's hand, giving it a small shake before releasing it quickly.

"And what's your name young man?" he prompted, when he didn't receive any reply.

"I'm Blaine," the teenager said quietly.

"Well Blaine, if you'd like to come with me, I'll show you around your new home for the next while," he said, his tone staying vibrant and upbeat as he bent down to pick up the beg that rested at his feet.

The teenager stood up slowly, looking at Alex warily. Miss Slater cast him a smile that seemed to tell him it would be alright. He nodded at her, the corners of his lips just twitching up into a tiny smile.

The man held the door to the rest of the building open for him, and Blaine walked through it.

The doorway led them into a long corridor that had many rooms branching off it's pure white walls.

"These are mainly storage rooms, and stuff like that."

The pair walked to the end of the hallway, where they stopped at the door. Alex pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked it, before pushing it open and walking inside. Blaine followed him, suddenly finding himself in a large room filled with the smell of baking. Alex locked the door behind them, before turning back to the room.

It was almost ten times the size of the waiting room, almost like a warehouse. Tables covered the middle of the room, with teenagers around Blaine's own age eating at them, or just talking to other people.

On one wall, a bunch of people are gathered around a bunch of appliances, trying to cook themselves some lunch.

"This is the mess hall, named because it usually ends up a mess by the end of the day. As you can probably tell, this is where you'll eat, unless you want to take it back to your room or something."

They walked through the room, avoiding the tables that were scattered everywhere haphazardly.

People looked at them as they passed, calling friendly greetings to Alex and looking Blaine up and down, almost as if they were deciding whether he would fit or not.

Alex returned their greetings with a few cheerful words, not noticing the glances Blaine was drawing.

"C'mon," he said, touching Blaine's forearm lightly, "Let's keep going."

They crossed to the opposite side of the room, and went through the door.

"Only the door to the mess is locked," Alex explained as Blaine's expression became confused, "because there are some people who try get out if it wasn't." He paused, "Well, they still try – they just don't get anywhere. But you won't be like that, will you Blaine?" he asked, his face bright.

Blaine shook his head, and looked around at the room they were in right now.

"This is the game room, but not many people actually play games in here. We've got computers with Wi-Fi, TVs, with Xbox, Playstation and all those things. Books, if you like to read. Also, everything you watch on the internet, or TV or whatever you play is being tracked, just so we know you aren't searching anything that's bad for you."

Blaine nodded, still gazing around the room. It was half the size of the mess hall, yet still crammed the same number of people into it. There were about twenty computers, all varying ages, lined up on desks. Some of them were being used, the teenagers behind them staring into what was on the screen. A TV blared from the cabinet it stood on, a bunch of people sitting around watching it.

"And now I'll show you to your room! Let's go!"

It was just like the mess; as he walked past, people looked up at him, eyeing him up.

Only this time, he was much closer and he could here them.

Someone chuckled deeply as he walked by, and he heard a faint whisper carry around the crowd.

"Fresh meat…"

Shivers ran down his back and he stuck close to Alex.

Only one person didn't look at him.

He was reading a book, fingers clenched against the hard cover of the book. His face was tight in concentration, his eyes flicking through every line. Blaine reeled back a little as he saw his irises. They were a strange colour of grey and grey and blue, and a tinge of gold. On anyone else, it would have looked odd, but this boy managed to pull it off. Perhaps it was the startling contrast between that and his porcelain-like skin, or the expensive-looking navy blue coat that covered his upper body. Whatever it was, this boy was one of the most beautiful people Blaine had ever seen.

Almost as if he felt someone staring at him, the boy's eyes flicked up to meet Blaine's gaze. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pulling at his coat by the sleeves, pulling it down over his wrists.

He was fast, but not fast enough.

Blaine saw the slim red lines that crisscrossed over the delicate, pale wrists. Blaine's eyes widened, but before he could do anymore, he was pulled through the doorway and into another corridor. The door slammed shut and Alex grinned.

"You'll be able to meet them later."

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><p><strong>Reviews are always very much appreciated :)<strong>


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